


Wake Up

by crescentcrona



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Arachnophobia, Body Horror, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 01:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentcrona/pseuds/crescentcrona
Summary: There seems to be some side effects to eating the spider queens soul. Arachne always had to have the last laugh in the end.Set some time after Soul became a death scythe but before the ending.





	Wake Up

They’re crawling beneath his skin again.

Soul’s eyes snapped open and he quickly sat up in bed, breaths coming heavy, desperate to get cool air in his lungs. 

Eventually he managed to calm his frantic panting, taking deep breaths the way Dr. Stein had taught him. Soul closed his eyes counting up to ten, then down from ten until he was able to breathe easier.

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed two things; the arms on his alarm clock sitting on the nightstand read 3:09, which meant he could still get another two, maybe three, hours of sleep, and the new spider web intricately crafted in the corner of his room. The web’s white silk glinted in the streetlight bleeding in from his window. 

Soul had become a Death scythe, one of the strongest and most powerful beings in the world. With the help of his meister, together they had killed the Spider Queen. He swallowed her soul; it had been the absolute best meal he’d ever had his entire life. 

He was revered, feared, and looked up to by both professional meisters and fellow students alike. Soul still had a long way to go, but he knew with his meister by his side, he was strong. With his friends, Kidd and Blackstar, he could do anything they set their sights on. 

By himself? Alone in his room, with the only source of light coming from the window his bed was purposely placed by? 

He was weak. His mind assaulted with night terrors of a new kind. Visions of his body agonizingly split into spiders against his will.

It would start out as tingling sensations, crawling beneath his flesh. In hazy dream memories he could recall seeing his skin physically moving as if something was underneath, trying to come out. And it would. 

It started in his fingers to his shoulders, from his feet up to his knees, he could feel his body ripping apart, turning into pitch black spiders. Ivory web would stretch from his missing joints, turning into the feeling of eight legs leisurely crawling out of what was left of his limbs and leave. Eight would turn to sixteen, sixteen to thirty-two, continuing in endless amounts of similar denominations. The weapon would try to swat them off, desperate to regain control. His body would slowly disintegrate with each swat until only his eyes were left. 

A side effect, from the witch’s soul that now pulsed within his own? Is it possible? Maybe. 

Perhaps it was just his own deranged mind haunting him again. The little ogre in his dreams finding new material to torment him, hoping he would succumb to the cursed blood that sat dormant, pumping through his veins. 

Nightmares were something Soul was, unfortunately, very familiar with. To his knowledge, they began when he was six. When he had his first recital, he dreamt of burning eyes glaring directly on him as he sat at the piano bench, fingers flubbing each note, practiced music coming out as a harsh, unbearable cacophony of noise. 

He had cried so hard his eyes stung, hiccups leaving him speechless while his brother held him, reassuring him with praises and promises. Soul vaguely remembers how warm Wes was, how safe he felt with his older brother. 

His father bluntly told him that men don’t cry, and that if Soul didn’t stop, he would give the boy something to truly cry about. 

After that, Soul forced down any sobs that threatened to leave him in the dead of night. He stopped his crying with the threatening image his brain had created for him. 

At ten, Soul experienced his first real night terror. He was on his back, and was terrified to find that he couldn’t move, no matter how much his sleep deprived brain tried to force him. The closet light was on, with the door slightly ajar. Shadows flickered in the silent, unmoving room. The black shadows stretched into arms, surrounding him as if they were responsible for holding him down. 

He saw eyes practically split open in the corners of his walls, swirling in whites and reds. Soul squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to open them again. Eventually he had fallen back into sleep, woke up safe and unharmed in his bed. He stopped sleeping flat on his back. 

Soon after Soul joined the DWMA, his nights were finally spent with dreamless sleep and too early mornings. 

That is, of course, until that fateful encounter in Rome. With the churches stained glass windows looming over him, and his chest gushing with blood from the open wound. 

Nightmares of floating helplessly, of ripping out of Maka’s screaming body, of little ogres and black blooded swordsmen haunted him every time he shut his eyes. 

The nightmares last a long time after that one. If anything, Soul was lucky to have a single decent night's sleep after. 

The Kishin’s revival only worsened everything for Soul. Not catching Maka in time during the fall when he escaped, the clowns, Blackstar never returning from Japan, Kidd’s kidnapping, everyday it seemed like there was something new to terrorize his mind at night. Night, when he was alone and weak. 

That being said, somehow this new type of terror felt different to Soul. It felt more real, more intimate. It was as if he could truly feel the quick legs of a spider finding home in his very soul.   
No matter how many times the scythe swiped at his arms and legs, there was nothing to be found. And yet, he found spiders taking refuge in his room and desks almost everyday now. 

At first it creeped him out. It had frightened Maka, made Blackstar tease him for it. 

Soul sighed and reached over his nightstand, turning on the bedside lamp. He squinted his eyes to the new light and rolled out of bed. 

The white haired boy folded up what were probably important school assignments, and went to the corner of the room. At the bottom of the web was the black dot responsible for the intrusion. Soul couldn’t make out any color or patterns on it. Sometimes he would get lucky and find different types of spiders lurking around him, seeking the comfort of an air conditioned refuge in the Nevada heat. 

At first, he had simply killed them, but lately the death weapon couldn’t bring himself to do it. It somehow felt better to let them go free instead of cleaning up squished arachnid every day. 

After some back and forth, and forcibly nudging the spider on the rolled papers, Soul quickly walked to his window. He unlocked it, shaking the papers until he was satisfied the arachnid was gone and slammed the window back in place. 

He winced at the loud sound, staying still and waiting to see if he woke his meister or roommate by accident. After several seconds of continued silence, he was able to relax and slumped back in his bed, papers drifting forgotten to the floor. 

Soul turned off his light, and returned to the warmth of blue comforters and one to many pillows. 

His dreams were full of rushing chains and close calls.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to my patron!! I hope you like it!! 
> 
> $8 tier grants you 1,000+ fanfiction reward monthly


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